Ouroboros
by Paul Morphy
Summary: There are some things in life you have to fight over and over again in a never-ending battle. JJ's was inexorably linked to one name: Tivon Askari.
1. Chapter 1

**"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."**

 **Chuck Palahniuk,** ** _Diary_**

* * *

It was strange, being back to her old office. The room, poorly lit by the yellowish glow of a desk lamp, and the little amount of light that filtered through the blinds, made her slightly squint to try and read more easily. She almost wished she hadn't managed to do so because the next line she read made her close the folder that sat in front of her.

 _He was raped for the first time at the age of ten._

She shook her head, and her hand flew for a second to the left side of her face, as if trying to hide from what she had just learned. Geez, was she really feeling sorry for him?

A brief pause and deep breath later, she had the courage she needed to open the folder once again.

 _By the age of thirteen, he had killed three people. Violence became a sexual act. Men, women, children. It didn't matter._

Children. Like the child she would have had _if_ not for him. Maybe he hadn't been able to physically reach him, but still, just by hurting JJ, even though not mortally, he had killed her son. Her daughter, maybe. She would never know now.

It was then that she actually saw Askari. She heard him threatening of taking away the little she had still left: her sleep, her smile, her feeling of safety. Her job. Everything that made her the Jennifer Jareau everyone knew.

The worst part was... He was right. She had been reckless, and not in control of the situation like she was supposed to, and she knew she couldn't afford to behave like that ever again, or she would really kill herself, consciously or not. That's what angered her the most. That's why she felt herself trembling in sheer rage, and that's why she hit the desk with both hands, ignoring the pain that reached the injured knuckles of her right hand, snarling a loud and raw _"NO!"_ that left her throat burning.

After that, he was gone.

She wiped her tears and the wet paths they had left, and got out of the office, not bothering to turn the lamp off.

* * *

Half an hour. That was how long she had been sitting in her parked car, right in front of her house, trying to remember all the good things she had waiting for her in it. The task was proving to be quite hard. It was getting ridiculous, really. She had been okay for a whole year! Why was she reacting so strongly now? Did a date really matter that much? How could she crumble that easily just because exactly a year before she was being beaten by _him_? Of course, she had the baby to think about. The baby that should have been her second child. Henry's brother or sister.

 _"You took my baby."_

 _Yes. I did. And it pleased me greatly._

JJ tightened her hands around the steering wheel and rested her forehead against it in a vain attempt for her sobs to stay at bay. She felt her tears sliding fast down both sides of her nose, mingling together on its tip, and then falling hot on her thigh.

She was being an idiot. Worrying over an unborn child that she could never get back while her son was waiting for her to go and kiss him goodnight. She should go inside and hug her husband. She should go inside and tuck Henry in.

But she just _couldn't_.

She couldn't hug her husband because she feared every man that tried to touch her on any part of her body other that her back or hands.

She couldn't tuck her son in because he shouldn't be the only child in that room. She couldn't do it, she couldn't do those thing she had done -loved to do!, millions of times before, even after everything that had happened with Askari.

 _I will transform you so that your husband and your son won't recognize you anymore._

She couldn't do it...

...But she had to. For her husband, and, mostly, for her son. She _had_ to get through it.

And that was the problem. She _had_ to keep going on. But she didn't _want_ to.

Then she understood. She could finally comprehend the feeling of hopelessness, of being trapped and forced to look forward when all you want to do is close your eyes. Yes, she understood; she understood her sister.

If Rosaline had ever felt anything like what Jennifer Jareau was feeling now, the FBI agent couldn't question the former's decision. How was a teen supposed to deal with such an overwhelming sensation of emptiness if not by trying to make it stop?

JJ heard again those words Askari told her barely an hour ago in the office: _and I will watch you kill yourself [...]._

How could she even think of protecting her family when she was completely terrorized by a dead man? Maybe Henry would be better off without her. He had picked on her lack of energy lately. He had been smiling less and less. He had clung to her at every given chance, maybe feeling her need for a comfort his father was not allowed to provide anymore. He had been strong for her. But a kid wasn't supposed to be strong! Kids were supposed to be all happy and bouncy. Kids have to be clueless, ignorant of their mother's pain and world's evil.

Finally, the blonde woman put her head away from the steering wheel, relaxed her hands, and then raised them to clean her face as much as she could. She checked herself on the rear-view mirror, searching for telltales of her recent crying. Finding only red-rimmed eyes, slightly swollen, she decided to get out of the car and into her house. She would have time to think everything through the following day.

* * *

To say that greeting her husband had been uncomfortable was an obscene understatement. Wives don't use to shy away from their husbands' embrace, after all. Luckily, she had gone straight to Henry, and the avoidance she had gifted Will with hadn't been so painfully obvious. However, the movement wasn't smooth enough, judging by the look of utter surprise displayed on the detective's face.

At last, both Will and Henry were asleep. Not surprisingly, the little boy had fought against sleep, trying to stay awake for his mommy. Eventually, as expected, he closed his eyes for the night, and JJ tried not to think about what if's as she covered her _only_ son with a warm duvet.

Will's attempts of coaxing her into bed with him had proved futile so, even though a little reluctantly, he gave his wife some time to herself, while he got some hours of restless sleep.

It was almost 3 in the morning, but JJ was still sitting on the living-room's couch, laptop perched on the coffee table, files of the team's latest case shining brightly on the screen, making her narrow her eyes, trying to seclude them from the light with her eyelashes. She was watching for the hundredth time those electrical burns she had felt on her own flesh.

She was so concentrated on the wounds of the victim that she almost yelled at the beeping sound her computer made as a new window popped in front of her tired eyes.

* * *

 _ **Scrabble War!**_

 **Cheeto-breath** _ **, you better be prepared, because**_ **Bokononist** _ **has defied you to a battle! Fight bravely and choose wisely your words.**_

* * *

If she didn't smile right away, she didn't have the chance to stop her lips from curling upwards slightly when she saw the word that _Bokononist_ had written:

* * *

 **S** - **L** - **E** - **E** - **P**

* * *

She decided to obey, if just to content her Scrabble opponent, not before letting them know she would do as told.

* * *

 **S** - **L** - **E** - **E** - **P**

 **U**

 **R**

 **E**

* * *

It's curious how _Bokononist_ , with one single, written word, was able to make her go to bed while Will's begging was disregarded immediately. How fortunate JJ was tired enough to not notice.

* * *

A/N: I'll try and update weekly but I warn you, I'm not one to stick to deadlines.


	2. Chapter 2

**"I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out."**

 **Ally Carter, _ Don't judge a girl by her cover_**

* * *

Will was in a bad mood that morning. Okay, so, having their wife sleeping _willingly_ on the guest's room doesn't exactly inflate men's ego.

* * *

 _He had been worried when he woke up without a trace of JJ in her side of the bed. After looking for her in the bathroom the living-room, and the kitchen, he frantically went back upstairs and pushed open his son's bedroom's door as quietly as his nerves allowed him._

"She's not here either."

 _Finally, he made it to their spare room, finding JJ ready for work, making sure she didn't forget anything. She noticed his agitated breathing and frowned._

 _"Everything okay?"_

 _"Jesus, JJ!" he suddenly took a step forward, and the blonde drew back as soon as she sensed the upcoming hug he intended to engulf her in. Will halted his approach, a slight grimace on his face. "Did you, uh... sleep in here?" she put her arms around herself._

 _"Yes. I didn't want to wake you up when I went to bed. It was pretty late."_

 _"I wouldn't have minded."_

 _"Yeah... Well... I should be going, now..."_ _she checked for her badge and, feeling it in her inside pocket, left the room with a half-hearted "bye", intending to make a pause to kiss her son before going to work._

* * *

The fact that JJ had been reticent for a while wasn't new to Will. As much as she tried to hide it, the change in her behavior had been evident. For the past year, JJ had been clearly uncomfortable every time she was touched with no previous warning, and though she didn't move away from anyone's touch she seemed relieved when it ended. Not to mention she didn't initiate any kind of physical contact anymore.

As the anniversary of her torture grew near, these new traits so unlike JJ, that had started to fade over time, regained a strength they had lacked for a while, and it bothered him beyond belief.

But nevertheless, the latest case JJ had worked on seemed to have touched a nerve. While she had showed distant and worried since her kidnapping, she had never, not even once, actively avoided being near her husband or son. Luckily, she seemed to have noticed this, as well as their son's recent uneasiness, because she did make an effort to reassure him, trying to ignore her own unwillingness.

Although he appreciated her endeavor when it came to Henry, he wasn't exempt of feeling hurt, not just because her exertions begun and ended with their son, but also because as she seemed to get more comfortable with the child, he could feel her getting farther away from himself. Granted, they had been having problems, especially when it came to going back to being physically intimate, but it hadn't reached a point in which she would be balky of sharing a bed with him. Or so he hoped.

This was actually the reason that made Will suspect that, perhaps, something else had happened, either while Jennifer was undercover or captive. And it was painfully obvious that it wasn't something JJ was willing to share, for whatever reason. He didn't know what could be horrible enough to make his wife to want and keep it a secret, not when she had been able to tell him about the torture... But he did know one thing: secrets in a marriage weren't good. He couldn't help if he didn't know what was going on!

He thought about the possibility of someone within his wife's team knowing the reason behind such a drastic change, not just throughout the last year, but after this case that had made her worsen her already frail condition, too. He made a mental note to remember and ask Garcia if she knew something, preparing himself for the inevitable anger that would come if he was in the darkness when it came to his wife, while her co-workers got to be aware of her situation.

Realizing he had been lost in thought for longer than he should have been, he sighed in frustration, went back to his room and got dressed. He had to get Henry ready for school, after all.

* * *

It wasn't hard to tell that JJ had been eager to go to the bullpen that morning so she could have some quiet time. However, now that she was there, at ten past seven in the morning when she wasn't supposed to be at work until nine, she didn't know what to do. Her paperwork had long ago been properly filled and handed in. If there was one thing Jennifer Jareau could boast of, it was of never procrastinating.

She sat on her chair, looking at the desk in front of hers. Reid's desk. Really, in moments like this she missed dearly having her own office. At least she could do as she pleased behind a closed door. And control the amount of light. You see, the FBI bullpen is like a soap-opera's house: there are no shadows. Yep, too much light.

She decided right then that it was a perfect time for a coffee. She needed one, as she hadn't slept as much as she would have liked to, anyway. If it hadn't been for _Bokononist_...

 _"It's been some time since we've talked..."_

She tapped her fingers against the hot porcelain of her newly made mug of coffee, mentally adding five hours to the bullpen's wall clock she was currently looking at.

 _"It's noon. Do they have lunch later than us in Europe?"_

She kept taking sips of her coffee, hesitating in her idea of making the call. She took her mobile out of her pocket; she looked at the time that showed on the right corner of its screen and, again, thought about the time difference.

 _"12:26. Well, to hell with it."_

JJ went back to her desk and sat down, phone already against her ear.

She sighed when it rang but went to voicemail.

"Uh, hi, Em, it's JJ. I just called to... Well, never mind, it's, like, lunch time there, right? Probably you're dying to have a break so I'll call you back-"

"I'm the boss, JJ, I can have a lunch break whenever I feel like it," JJ jumped a little, not having noticed that the phone had been answered while she left her message, "God, I can have someone else's lunch, should I want to!"

"Really? Wow, I sometimes forget how powerful you've become within the Interpol," she joked, comforted by the familiar interaction. "But, really, if you're busy I can always call you later."

"No need. I just came back to my office from a meeting, and I have some time left until the next one."

"Okay, then. I just wanted to thank you. You know, for the file, and the shortest Scrabble War ever," as Emily laughed, JJ bent her knee, comfortably resting her right foot on the chair she was sitting on, and put her chin on it, while her right arm hugged the raised leg.

"About the file, you have Reid to thank for, and, well, when I saw you were online at such an _ungodly_ hour I knew I had to do something," there was a small silence. "Everything okay around there?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I just wanted to say "thank you" and talk to you for a bit. It's been a while," she shrugged, even though there was no way Emily could see it.

"Uhg, I know. Between work and the time difference..."

"Yeah, it's been crazy lately. Little to no sleep, as you can guess. I actually came early today because of all the paperwork I have accumulated," okay, _that_ was a lie.

"Oh, so the almighty Jennifer Jareau, master of all bureaucratic tasks, is feeling the pressure of the clock?" she could almost picture Emily's smirk, and so she raised a eyebrow in amusement, thankful for the amicable chat. She moved her head so it was her cheek now resting against her knee. "Don't you worry, it doesn't make me see you as a neglected agent but as a human being," JJ chuckled.

"Careful, Em, or I might end up waiting to hear such flattering things every time we talk," she made sure to use the most exaggerated, sarcastic tone she could manage; yeah, she wanted Emily to _feel_ her eye-rolling. "I think all that British charm you're surrounded with is rubbing off on you."

Emily laughed and, as she was about to give a retort, she murmured a rushed "give me a moment". JJ heard a muffled conversation taking place at the other side of the phone line.

"Hey, JJ, I have to get back to work. Sorry, I thought I had more time."

The blonde's mood deflated at the information.

"Oh. That's fine. Uh... bye, then."

"Okay... I'll try and call you more often, if that's fine?"

"That'd be wonderful, Emily," she was surprised at the honesty of her own statement.

"Good. Good. And you call me too if you need anything, alright? I mean it."

"Of course," JJ lowered her leg, mindful of the rapidly crowding bullpen. "I should be working, too, anyway."

"Right. Then, have a good day, JJ. Talk you soon."

They both hung up after JJ said her own goodbye.

 _"Well, that was short..."_

Knowing she should at least look like she was doing something useful, she turned her computer on. She had more than an hour until the rest of the team arrived. If she was lucky, they would have something to work on and she could postpone dealing with her feelings and thoughts.

Huh. Maybe she _did_ procrastinate, after all.

* * *

A/N: Okay, not a very interesting chapter. This one's just to show Will's point of view, really. Let's hope it gets better when the next case arrives.

Oh, and, by the way, let me know if you find any annoying grammar mistakes, I'm not that comfortable writing in English.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Here in your mind you have complete privacy. Here there's no difference between what is and what could be."**

 **Chuck Palahniuk, _Choke_**

* * *

Jennifer Jareau wasn't stupid. She knew that her team members would sooner or later see through her façade. However, not even once had she thought the one to confront her on it would be Spencer Reid. If he had noticed, and had reached a point in which he considered he had to intervene, then there was no way the rest of the agents were oblivious to her internal battle. A battle she didn't even know how had started. It just had.

It was a weird situation, really, having the roles reversed. Usually it was her the one who had to give moral support to the rest of the team. That used to happen more often when she worked as the press liaison; not having to be out in the field all the time made her less exposed to seeing too much, or having to make a harsh decision, so it was logical for her to be the one to offer comfort.

Since she had become a profiler herself, the time she spend reassuring others had decreased, though not disappeared completely. She guessed that needing someone else's help would be a matter of time. Nonetheless, the fact that the reason she needed that help was so personal, so painful... The fact that none of her team members had been present when it had happened made her want to shake off any help they might want to offer; the situation was just too intimate. This wasn't a bad case; this was the death of her unborn child. She didn't knew Kate well enough to confide in her, and Garcia would probably cry in empathy. Furthermore, no man in the planet could ever understand what a miscarriage meant to a mother. That left out the whole team.

Ha, how could she tell the team if she hadn't been able to tell her husband?

If that weren't enough, the fact that Reid, socially awkward, _Spencer Reid,_ was the one trying to reach out to her made it all the more confusing, and difficult to manage. She could afford an outburst with Morgan, with Hotch, with Rossi. But not with Read. She knew her Spence all too well. He probably had spent days, even weeks!, gathering all the courage he needed to suggest her to seek help; to talk to someone. Anyone. To _him_. And while she was close to losing it, she couldn't help but looking out for him. She was aware that having his good intentions brushed off brusquely, or at all, would hurt an exceedingly sensitive man, such as him. And she wouldn't do that to someone she loved as dearly as Spence.

So she turned his offer down without turning his offer down; that is: she took the file she wasn't sure she wanted to look at, and with that simple gesture implied that she would ask for his help if she needed it. Then she was stupid enough to read it...

While she had regretted telling him about her abortion in the spur of the moment, JJ had to admit that she had been able to breathe more easily when Reid didn't change the way he treated her, even after the news. At least someone knew and didn't think any less of her. She hadn't realized how much she had needed to tell someone until she had blurted it out.

Still, she felt guilty for letting him know before Will... But she couldn't find a reason to tell her husband that they had lost a child. She couldn't be selfish in that. He hadn't asked what was going on with her, even though he had evidently noticed that there _was_ something wrong. Was she supposed to break his heart for her own good, when he just wanted to forget anything had ever happened and avoid the pain? She couldn't do that to him.

Even though she had been skeptical, Reid's help had proved to be a godsend. The file he had given to her had indirectly brought her back to Emily. Since that morning call she had hesitantly made, they had been talking more as days passed by. Just short conversations and small talk, whenever they had free time and it was a decent hour to call another human being. Damned time difference.

Anyhow, having Emily on the other side of the phone made her feel at ease, remembering the time when they were all together and she didn't feel like she was about to implode. Talking to her was familiar, it was safe. No need for fake politeness or pretended intentions. No need for masks. ... Almost.

Emily didn't knew what she was going through. Yet, she was starting to think that she _could_ tell her, and that was more than she could say about most of the people she was surrounded with. Emily wouldn't judge her, that much she was sure of. But she was trying to find in Emily some solace from the loneliness she felt, a solace the rest of her family -their family, wasn't able to supply. What she was looking for was understanding, and she was trustful that she could find it in her friend, who, for whatever reason, had always had that special sensitiveness when it came to children and motherhood. Hopefully, Emily would give her the advice and backup she needed to see things more clearly, to grasp what was going on with her, and to start to heal.

JJ sighed soundlessly, gaze unfocused in some spot of her desk. She really needed something to do or her head would explode.

* * *

Things in the FBI weren't too exiting when there wasn't a case to work on.

He personally had no problem with filling reports, and looking through piles, and piles of them. Vantages of speed reading, really. He was aware of Morgan's puppy eyes (one of Garcia's weak spots) asking a silent question for him to take some of the documents that stood with ruthless height on the muscular man's desk.

He smiled kindly.

"You can give me the half."

Morgan stood with practiced ease carrying, indeed, half of the paperwork in his arms.

"I owe you, Wonder Boy!" he patted Reid's shoulder with more force that the smaller man would have liked, but the latter smiled anyway, content with helping his friend.

"It's fine. I read much faster than you do. I'll be done in no time," Morgan rolled his eyes and laughed at his colleague confused face, but chose not to try and explain to him why modesty was a valuable thing. He had saved his ass, anyway.

"Right. Thank you, Reid," he went back to his desk, with renewed energy, now that the pile wasn't high enough to block his view of the bullpen.

The skinny man shrugged as Morgan turned around. He wouldn't have such a huge pile if he worked on his paperwork more often. As to confirm his point, he looked for a moment at Kate. She was almost done. The he looked straight ahead to JJ. Of course. Finished. And lost in thought, apparently.

"No reports to fill?" she jumped in her chair. "Sorry," he apologized bashfully.

"It's fine. And, no. I handed them in, already," she eyed warily the folders on Reid's desk. "Morgan?" she guessed. He nodded, a trace of amusement in his eyes, and JJ chuckled.

Seeing there was nothing left to say, he resumed his work. JJ watched him reading the files with impressive speed, filling properly all the voids he found.

 _"God bless eidetic memory."_

It wasn't long before both, Reid and Kate were done. With nothing left to do they all went together to grab a coffee, promising to bring one to Morgan, too.

Reid knew he wasn't the best when it came to human interaction, but he _did_ know quite a lot about human behavior. Oh, the irony. Anyway, that knowledge was the reason why he urged Kate, not at smoothly as he would have liked, to go back to the bullpen and deliver a coffee to Morgan as soon as he saw JJ's eyes unable to leave their partner's pregnant belly. The newer agent gave him a suspicious look due to his odd request but complied when she saw his determined eyes. Not a look she was used to see on him if not regarding maths.

Now alone, they stood in silence. JJ's right hand gripped her mug with much more force than necessary, making her knuckles turn white, even though there were some little purple spots that reminded the injury she had unintentionally made to herself not that long ago, and that hadn't completely healed yet.

"JJ... Are you okay?" his voice was shy and doubtful. She looked at him, eyes shinier than they should, and left the mug on the counter, almost losing the hold she had on it before it touched the surface.

"I... Excuse me," she left right away, while Reid stood alone in the room. He sighed. At least he prevented her of falling apart in front of Kate, but it was of little comfort for him.

He watched her entering into the bathroom, head down and slow pace as to not attract unwanted attention. Always the professional...

* * *

After making sure there was no-one else in the bathroom, JJ locked the door. She put her hands flat on the marble counter and took deep, shaky breaths, trying to even them out. She moved her eyes to the mirror in front of her, the subtle movement making her tears fall. She whimpered, and let out a frustrated growl.

 _"A freaking_ belly _is making me cry."_

Again, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her weight losing wasn't noticeable. At least she was still eating enough. However, her lack off sleep didn't pass as inadvertent as her lack of appetite. Not even makeup could hide the dark rings under her eyes anymore.

What had triggered this strong reaction she didn't know. She had seen Kate's pregnant belly more than once. Whatever. She had to see Kate everyday and she was unwilling to lose control just like that in front of anyone.

Luckily Reid had bought her time, enough for her to sneak away and have some privacy.

With a last look at herself, she opened the tap and cupped some water on her hands, splashing it on her face, erasing the wet marks left by her tears, and making less evident the flush that had reached her cheeks because of her ragged breaths.

Making sure she was no longer panting, she unlocked the door and went back to her desk. Her hands were still shaking slightly.

 _"No more coffee, today..."_

* * *

A/N: More of JJ's introspection, and Reid's view of the situation. I really felt like giving some credit to him.

This is another uneventful chapter, but, needless to say, I gave a major role to the character's thoughts in this story so they're important to the plot.

I'm already working on the case so... patience.


	4. Chapter 4

**"People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say."**

 **Kurt Vonnegut,** ** _Cat's Cradle_**

* * *

They seemed frivolous, all the conversations they had before a case. Maybe it was just her because the fact is that, when you lose something of a great importance in your life, you just see things on a different light; it is inevitable, really. It was something you had to face, the horrible feeling that set itself in the back of your mind, always there, the feeling that told you the world hadn't changed at all after your disgrace. The feeling that made you realize just how insignificant your life is. How little value you actually have.

Her blue eyes watched from the safe distance of the break room all her team, minus Hotch, who was probably buried in paperwork, talking among them. Joking freely, smiling at the witty, yet friendly remarks that were being thrown back and forth, laughing hard when Kate took a biscuit and Morgan gave a gentle pat to her tummy.

JJ's world had crumbled down and, yet, no one noticed; no one cared. Life goes on, right?

 _Wrong._

Life doesn't go on. The world does. The world keeps spinning round even when life exist no more. Even when her child's life didn't get to begin. It sucked.

Things that really mattered weren't given enough importance until after gone. Other than friendship, love, and family; other than all that made you happy, everything is meaningless. Yet... People didn't (couldn't) understand until it was too late.

She sighed, but moved toward the group to find Kate rubbing her stomach. Well, _fuck_. The blonde smiled at her friends and joined the chat.

 _"Time for idle blabbering."_

* * *

It was a good change, making photos to a landscape instead of a corpse. And the smell was better, too. It was funny, I mean, you don't wake up as a kid and think, _"hey, guess what, by the age of 45 I will have photographed more dead people than living people"._

Who would have thought journalism would lead him to war zones? It was a dangerous but fulfilling job, knowing you were there, on the frontline, trying to help, and making the world know what kind of atrocities were being developed. Because people _had_ to know. How else could they help, if not?

Yes, definitely fulfilling. And he had reached a great success in the field, too. He was a recognized professional, and had as well learned a lot about both the culture and history of all the countries he had been to. He could be proud of himself.

After the last shot of his camera, he looked at the little screen the object had to see the result. When he was about to change the camera lens, he felt a burning, overwhelming pain in his abdomen that made him fall to the ground in agony. He put pressure on what he knew was a shot wound. Not the first time he had felt it.

Someone kicked his side when he was trying to get up, and he fell to the ground yet again. Turning onto his back to see his attacker, he watched with surprised, wide eyes, and clenched teeth as the man bent over to grab his camera. The gun he held was aimed at him, but this time, the target was his head.

Surprisingly calm, the standing figure said:

"Don't worry, as a tribute to you and your work, I'll take a picture of you. People will be well aware of your death," he almost didn't have time to feel fear when he heard a shot.

It wasn't the first time he had felt it, but it would be the last one.

The murderer put the gun away, and took more firmly the camera. As promised, he took a photo of the body of the war correspondent. Just one more to add to the collection that camera had already.

Talk about irony.

* * *

It was eleven in the night when the phone rang, and JJ was understandably surprised to see it was Emily. It was early morning in London. Or very late at night? Whatever.

In any case, she had readily answered the call, intending to enjoy a light conversation with her friend. Somehow, that didn't seem like "idle blabbering".

JJ made herself comfortable on the couch, wrapped herself into the soft blanked that rested on its backrest, and curled into a ball to enjoy the warm cocoon. After making sure the call wasn't due to any kind of emergency, their talk run smoothly. Even though, surely, something had made Emily want to call when it was so late, JJ didn't ask. Anyway, it probably had to do with the way the other woman's voice sounded a little raspy. She also coughed from time to time, and so, after quite a while of coughs, sniffles, and poorly vocalized "m"s, she finally questioned.

"What's up with you? You sound weird."

"Oh, yeah, it's just a little cold."

"I don't think I remember you ever getting sick," her mind wandered, looking through her memories with no success.

"Well, you know, London, cold, rain 24/7. Oh, and I fell into the Thames, earlier."

"Oh, my God!" JJ wanted to genuinely express concern, but since Emily seemed fine, she couldn't stop the little fit of laughter that attacked her. "What on earth were you doing to manage a thing like that?"

"I was just out for a walk! Seems like there was a mugging and the damned guy just _had_ to collide with me when I was looking down into the water. And, for your information, falling into water from a high height hurts like a bitch. I've dislocated my shoulder, and the pain doesn't let me sleep."

Whatever happened to painkillers?

"Jesus, Em. I'm sorry, I didn't think you had hurt yourself. I wouldn't have laughed, otherwise," she said gravely.

"I know, JJ. It's fine, really. I'm just in a bad mood. That's actually why I wanted to talk to you for a while before trying to sleep. It soothes me; makes me feel like I'm back home, you know?" she sounded unsure, as if not knowing if the information would be well received. JJ noticed, but was happy to hear Emily still refer to the States as her home; to link _her_ with the word _home_.

"Yeah, I feel the same way when I talk to you. And I know it sounds weird because, well, I _am_ home but... it's not same without you here. I miss you."

There, she had said it. She was pretty sure that it was nothing weird to say to a dear friend whom you hadn't seen for a long time and, still, she could feel herself blushing madly. Surely, it wasn't an effect of the phrase itself as much as the way she had said it. A whispered, breathy confession. Good Lord, that had probably been the most needy voice that had _ever_ left her lips! Her heart sped up in what she presumed was embarrassment.

"I miss you, too, Jay."

The blonde closed her eyes, and cuddled deeper into the warmth of her blanket as her heart soared. She didn't fail to pick up on the little detail that Emily had added her name at the end of the phrase, like saying, _"yes, I miss_ you _in particular, not just the BAU or the team"._

"You better, Em," she tried to lighten the mood, with little success, since the lump that had formed in her throat strangled her voice.

"You okay?" obviously she had realized. How could she not? "JJ?" the blonde remembered that she had yet to respond.

"I'm fine. Just overly emotional, it seems," she nuzzled the blanket to stop the itching feeling in her nose and eyes. "I think..." she would tell her, just not today; not when it was 4 in the morning there, "I better leave you to your sleep, Emily. You have to get up early," JJ knew her friend enough to notice the little, hesitant silence in which the brunette tried to decide whether pressing for answer, seeing through the obvious lie, or leaving it for another time. It didn't seem like a good choice to have a draining conversation when she was beyond tired. For neither of them.

"All right. And you go get some sleep, too, you hear?" the blue eyed woman smiled into the blanket.

"Yes, mother," she could proudly assure that a brunette woman had just rolled her eyes in London.

"Whatever... Call you tomorrow?"

"Please," geez, again that voice... "Sweet dreams, Em," nice save.

"...Okay, then. Sleep tight, JJ."

"Will do."

But she didn't.

* * *

William LaMontagne Jr. wasn't one to pry behind doors, but the now unfamiliar sound of his wife's laughter made him forget manners for a night.

"What on earth were you doing to manage a thing like that?"

He intently listened to JJ's words, a frown quickly appearing on his face. When was the last time she had even chuckled at something he had said?

 _"Who is she talking to?"_

He waited for the conversation to continue, and was almost afraid to have been caught invading JJ's privacy when after a few seconds of silence he heard the blue eyed woman gasp. He stood rigid.

"Jesus, Em. I'm sorry, I didn't think ..."

Her voice seemed to fade away as he sighed in relief when Prentiss' name came out of JJ's mouth, and almost laughed at his paranoid attitude.

 _"How could I have thought she was...? Well, never mind."_

As he was about to happily go back to his room, he focused unconsciously in his wife's words.

"...sounds weird because, well, I _am_ home but... it's not same without you here. I miss you."

While he could have passed the comment as a cordial line, as something you say for the good measure of a friendship, exaggerating the actual feeling of forlornness that a friend's absence can bring, he couldn't just brush it off after hearing the _tone_ of JJ's voice. Pure and raw honesty. Unwary openness.

He clenched his fist because in that moment he knew right where he stood.

Not just was his _wife_ uncomfortable around him, unwilling to talk to him, hesitant of sharing a bed with the man she had _married and had a son with_. She was also shamelessly opening up, if just slightly so, to a woman who had been out of the country for years! True, she had dropped everything to come and help JJ a year prior. She was the one to find her, and save her in that rooftop, afterwards; but she hadn't seen the changes JJ had suffered physically and psychologically since then. She was _not_ there when JJ was silently falling apart.

Yet, she chose Emily to be unguarded with.

As Will headed with angry strides towards the bedroom he would most probably be spending the night alone in, he didn't stop to think that even though he had been aware of his wife's issues, and had wondered about the reason behind them, not once had he tried asking, either. It was always JJ the one who initiated and stopped conversations about that topic in particular, giving her room enough to dissemble. He hadn't pushed, he hadn't dared ask, out of fear of an answer he knew he would have to hear. An answer he _wanted_ to hear, but not to ask for.

Yes, Emily hadn't been there, but had _he_?

* * *

A/N: _"Oh, joy, a murder!"_ That's probably what some of you are thinking. The story will still have a lot of introspection but the case, and actual interactions between characters will make it less dense to read for those who are not into the long, uneventful internal struggles I love so much.

*Next chapter will probably be late*


	5. Chapter 5

**"[...] time is the longest distance between two places."**

 **Tennessee Williams, _T_** _ **he glass menagerie**_

* * *

It's funny how you take for granted every little detail that forms your routine. You immediately notice the variations it suffers, and get an uneasy, worrying feeling when it changes or lacks something. At least that's what JJ felt when, at almost 8 in the morning, after her half past six coffee (1 cream, two sugars), her son's goodbye kiss, and her 30 minutes traffics jam ( _oh, joyful day),_ she hadn't had any news from Emily. Not a call, or the text she usually got from her, mostly complaining about work.

She looked through her phone and mentally read some of them.

* * *

 _" Really, when I accepted this job I thought coffee wouldn't be poisonous. I'll end up giving it up. Again. Damned London, stop inventing tea flavors and work on your coffee!"_

 _"He told me he was late because of the rain. Hah! It's ALWAYS raining, fella!"_

 _"I just don't get why we have so few lamps in here. I hadn't seen life under such a dark light since I was a goth."_

 _"The nerve of that woman... If she couldn't understand what I was saying is not because of my "awful accent". She just can't speak French. Crétin."_

 _"Did you know I owe one and only one pen? Yeah, me neither. I realized today, when I lost it and was unable to do my paperwork. Had to borrow one from the guy who was late because of the rain..."_

* * *

The blonde chuckled quietly, but put her phone back in her pocket when Reid looked at her from behind his desk. She shook her head, as if saying "it's nothing", and made a mental note to call the brunette in her lunchtime.

"Briefing room in five," Hotch's voice came firmly into the bullpen .

The team members, not waiting the five minutes that their boss had given to them, stood up and went towards the indicated room.

When they sat on their respective chairs, both Hotch and Garcia were getting the equipment ready, connecting properly the screen in which the case's details would be shown. Once it was ready, the monitor filled with the image of an smiling middle-aged man.

"Gregory Phillips, 45, journalist or, more accurately, war correspondent," Hotch informed quickly as Garcia gave the team the case's files. "As you can see, the cause of the death was a shot in the head. However, he was shot once more, in his stomach, and he was also hit several times, most of them probably postmortem. He was murdered yesterday afternoon in Florida, Everglades National Park, while he took pictures of the place," Hotch informed quickly as he changed the pictures of the screen.

"Yesterday?" asked Morgan, receiving a nod from the serious man. "So, and don't get me wrong, but, what's the hurry?"

"Two days ago," another picture popped up in the screen. Yet again, a middle-aged man, "James Taylor, also a war correspondent, was killed in his house's backyard, in Illinois. He was shot, as well, but just once, and he didn't have any more wounds or bruises."

"Hotch, the file says that ballistic compared the bullets and they don't match."

"In this past week," the unit chief gave Morgan a look, asking him silently to stop interrupting, "Four other people have been murdered in three different countries, all in Europe. Six people, and four countries, counting the US," he made a pause in which the profiles frowned and looked at the others. "All of them were recognized war correspondents."

"So, even though the weapons are not the same ones, and if the MO's are also different we are still presuming it _is_ one single case," Kate stated.

"Yes," Hotch put the remote control on the table, and sat on one of the chairs. So did Garcia. "The possibilities of it being a coincidence are way too slim to risk it."

There was a small pause that Rossi interpreted as a signal to intervene and start the profile.

"So, obviously, the first thing we need to know if we're going to treat this as one case is: why? Why would someone want to kill war correspondents? If the UNSUB had something against the profession, surely they wouldn't need to travel overseas."

"Perhaps this is about press coverage," Kate said, tapping her pen on the table, yet looking her partners straight in the eye. "Or lack thereof?"

"Yeah, seems like both Mr. Phillips, and Mr. Taylor were well known for never flinching, no matter the pressure they had to stand," Morgan coincided. "We'll need to know about the other victims, too but, if someone wanted to kill similar individuals, it's probably because they don't like their dedication to their work."

"Dedication to the truth, I'd say," Garcia took the control from the table and showed the same image that she had on her computer, "Our heroic men won lots and lots of prizes. And this wasn't the first time they were hurt in the name of duty. Well, it was the worst, for sure but... You know what I mean..."

"In any case, is probable that the reason behind the crimes is exactly what Kate said: they're after the lack of press coverage," Rossi agreed.

"In war zones," Kate added, mostly to herself.

"But then," Reid spoke, "Why not killing any outstanding or specially upright and honest journalist?"

"Because," JJ informed, "war correspondents are the ones who really make the world understand what's going on in wherever they are. It doesn't matter how many people you say have died, it won't be as effective as one photo of a corpse."

"She's right," Hotch accepted, "They're in first line. Like Morgan said, the journalists that are being murdered are well known because of being obdurate in their task of informing about what's going on," Garcia pointed to the journalists' prizes for good measure. "They don't mind being in a war-zone so long as they can tell what's going on."

Kate stopped the tapping of her pen as she spoke, "So, if they are eliminated, the only ones that remain are those unwilling to die for a headline or a photo."

"For the truth..." Garcia mumbled.

"And without press coverage..." JJ let her words trail away.

"Any regime is free to do as it pleases. If no one knows, then no one cares," Rossi completed cynically, not at all surprised.

Then Morgan took over:

"And, if no one cares, you can do whatever you want within your country."

"Don't you guys think we're exaggerating?" said Garcia, securing her glasses on her nose, trying not to be so negative, "There are organizations responsible of maintaining some kind of hold over autocrats and regimes. Any government, really. The UN, for example. Doing whatever you want wouldn't be as easy as killing journalists."

"They wouldn't intervene if there weren't some sort of interest," Reid started, speech already clear in his mind. "For example, in a civil war or when a second-rate nation is immersed in a war, fighting a more powerful, and more important country, organizations like the UN don't lift a finger. They just limit their actions to bureaucratic communicates, and that's just when and _if_ society shows its disconformity when facing an humanitarian crisis. Take Syria for an example. The conflict, still active, started in 2011, and while it was given a place in the news for a while after its beginning, we didn't heard of it until recently, and that was because of all the refugees that are trying to reach a friendly European country to seek asylum in. And, even with that, it's been given more importance to those refugees than to the actual problem, which is the war. The reason is quite simple: the war per se doesn't affect Europe, but the people that want to enter the continent do. The only reason why they decided to give asylum to them was that citizens were horrified with some of the pictures and news that kept insisting on the tragedy."

"So, what Wonder Boy here means is: no press in war-zones, no international help. Right?" Morgan slapped him on the back, and smirked when he heard him grunt slightly.

"Broadly speaking, yes," replied the smaller man, frustrated to see his words so brutally summarized.

"Well, back to the homicides," Hotch got the attention back, not missing the main point, "We've got six bodies and four countries. We need to work on the profile immediately. First we must to contemplate the more that likely possibility of a group being behind this. Ideology is an important trait in this case, and it's frequent for it to show in form of an union of people."

JJ frowned, looking back at him, "Yet, we have first to know where to search."

"So," Rossi said, nodding with his head after hearing the blonde, "we need to know how many armed conflicts are being developed nowadays and guess which one is the UNSUB killing for."

"Presuming that the conflict has started already," Morgan said, doubtful.

JJ, however, seemed to be sure.

"Seems unlikely to start killing people if it hasn't," the blonde reasoned. "There are no news to cover yet. Furthermore, the only way of knowing that a war is about to begin, is to be the one to start it, and, honestly, knowing that no-one would pay attention to a small revolt, the only reason to want press coverage gone is a big conflict. One that just a nation could start."

"And since a country wouldn't risk having the rest of the world taking actions for such dirty methods, we can assume it _is_ an ongoing warfare," the other woman of the profiling team supported the idea.

Morgan seemed convinced, and so he straightened his posture on the uncomfortable chair, ready to continue, "Now, the real question is: would a single individual travel to four different countries and kill six people in such a shot time span?"

"Regarding time, though very difficult, yes, it is possible," responded Reid, "We can only know for sure if it's a group by searching for mismatches on the MO."

"Even if the ballistics didn't match, the MO is not really different..." Rossi reminded, "Maybe Mr. Phillips was hit, and shot twice because he noticed his attacker before planned. And the UNSUB might have more than one gun."

"Obviously there's no way we can give an answer to that question just by looking at two victims out of six," JJ said with a frustrated sigh, after stopping reading the file she held in her hands. "If the other victims were found abroad..."

Knowing the what she would ask for, Hotch assured the team:

"We'll have access to the other victims' files once the Interpol team arrives."

"Wait, Interpol?" Morgan looked at his boss with a barely contained excitement that the rest of the team mirrored. Kate didn't seem to follow, though.

"Of course. International conflict," Hotch almost smirked.

"You know damn well why I asked, Hotch," the dark-skinned man rolled his eyes, amused.

"I don't know who was assigned here, Morgan. But I did make sure to tell them that we had worked, with great results, may I add, with Emily so, yes, I expect to see her here in a few hours."

Hotch allowed the team the time to let the news sink in, and while everyone seemed to think about all they would do once Emily was back, JJ couldn't help but think cheerfully relieved:

 _"So,_ that's _why you didn't call."_

* * *

A/N: I'm not at all happy with how this chapter turned out to be (I feel like it was written by an eight year old...) so I may modify it, not completely, of course, but some parts.

PS: The actual quote would be: "I didn't go to the moon, I went much further -for time is the longest distance between two places." I don't use to read plays but this one is quite good; not one of my favourites, but good to spend a nice afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6

****"Home is where you go to find solace from the ever changing chaos, to find love within the confines of a heartless world, and to be reminded that no matter how far you wander, there will always be something waiting when you return."****

* * *

Leaving London was never supposed to be an option. She had known that as soon as she had flown back to help JJ a year prior.

Nope.

She was supposed to stay there, in London, doing a fulfilling job, even though it wasn't her dream one. She would end up getting used to the rain and the cold temperatures of the north of Europe. She would eat fish and chips, and drink tea instead of coffee. 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 cent euro coins would stop bothering her; and so would those of 1 and 2 euros. She would not miss dollar notes anymore. She would drive on the correct side of the road without having the feeling of being breaking the law.

Emily Prentiss knew she would be able to do all of that.

Eventually.

However, she was also aware that, in order to achieve it, she was not to leave London.

It was certainly easier to stop missing things you didn't have to see any longer. Things which memory would be faded by distance and erased by time. A _lot_ of time, no need to lie.

And yet, there she was again, ready to step on a private plane to go back to her still self-declared home. Just on a brighter note this time.

Okay, maybe not first-ray-of-light-that-reaches-your-eyes-when-you've-just-woken-up bright (because, murder, you know), but still.

She sighed. If talking again in a daily basis with JJ had her already missing the States like crazy, wishing she had never left, she didn't want to know what would become of her once she put a foot back on the country.

She had stupidily thought that the Interpol would not send the director of one of their bases to another country, keeping in mind profesionalism, rankings, or the possibility of the chief being needed. Seems like they weren't that worried when they ordered, yes, _ordered_ , her to go pack her stuff. Apparently, to let her know she was bound to leave with at least 30 minutes notice, for the sake of the respect toward her important position within the agency (and all that crap), was entirely too much to ask.

 _There are people competent enough to cover your back and the institution's for some time. Needless to say that this case is our top priority right now, and so, who else is supposed to work on it if not the best of the best? Who else if not the boss?,_ they had told her whe she tried to convince her superiors that she was needed in London. And, if that weren't enough: _Furthermore, Agent Hotchner has let us known, via Erin Strauss, that you and_ his _team work wonderfully together. It's crucial for our liaison in America to be in good terms with the other party._

Okay, she got it; it made sense. She knew she was being unreasonable and, had the case led her to any other country, she would have never complained. But it wasn't any other country. It was _her_ country, and it would be twice as hard to go back to pretending she didn't miss her old life if she had to see what she, once again, was leaving behind.

The brunette sighed again as she sat on the jet. She rejected the offer of water the kind flight assistant made her and looked through the window. Hopefully, she'd be sleeping shortly after the plain took off.

Before grabbing a blanket from the top cabinet and reclining her sit, she looked at her watch.

She prepared herself to get as much sleep as possible. If she didn't, jet lag would come back to kick her ass earlier than expected.

* * *

"Oh, you are __sooo__ gonna love her!" said an energetic Garcia, moving up and down, and waving wildly her hands in front of an amused Kate.

"I'm sure I will, but please, Garcia, stay put. I get dizzy enough without all your erratic movements."

" _ _Duh!__ Pregnant women are so fussy," although she complained, the quirky blonde stopped bouncing. Kate laughed quietly.

"Everyone is quite excited. And Morgan seems to have an especial interest in the return of the famous Emily Prentiss..." the brunette joked mischievously.

"I'll let that go unpunished and think that such an _obnoxious_ comment was due to your rampaging pregnancy hormones, and the possible dizziness I might have caused you," the tech hit her partner's chest with her pointer finger, while the other woman laughed in delight after hearing Garcia's response. "And I'll let you know, oh, oblivious one, that any romantic gesture between Mr. Brown Sugar there," she pointed at Morgan, "and Ms. Sharp Tongue would be seen here as nothing short of incestuous."

"She's right," Rossi said from behind them, "It would be the equivalent of JJ dating Reid."

Kate wrinkled her nose and the three of them looked at their mentioned partners, who were next to one another, looking amused at an exhilarated Morgan.

"Okay, that's weird," said the brunette woman with finality.

"Indeed," the male agent nodded.

"Look at that hunk of a man, all childlike! Isn't it heartwarming?" Garcia sighed, ignoring the topic at hand, "Since my exuberance seem to be too much to handle for some people," she looked pointedly at the woman beside her, "I'll go share my glee with my dark-skinned Hercules."

The remaining agents smiled as the blonde left.

"She's something else," Kate chuckled, and Rossi nodded.

"Well, she's even more excited than usual. I'm surprised she's not hanging giant, colorful banners on the front facade of the building to welcome Emily back."

"It's not only Garcia and Morgan, as far as I can tell," she observed. "Hotch is the less obvious, but you yourself are in a very good mood. And Reid won't stop smiling and turning his head every time someone walks into the bullpen. Even JJ seems to be eager to see her, and we all know she hasn't been that enthusiastic for a while."

Rossi shrugged, "We'll all love to have her back, as short as the reunion may be. As for JJ... It'll make her good to have Emily to talk to. They have... things in common," he spoke, cryptically. Knowing Emily and JJ, they wouldn't appreciate Kate being aware of anything related to Doyle, or Askari and Hastings, so he said no more.

The female agent, seeing he wouldn't elaborate, was respectful enough of the women's privacy not to ask.

As soon as they heard the loud, happy squeal that left Garcia's lips, they went towards their colleagues, Kate staying behind, leaving enough room for the old team to reunite without her interference. Hotch passed her by just when the quirky blonde that was their technical analyst launched herself at a taller woman, yelling a heartfelt _"_ _ _EMILY!__ _"._

As she watched Garcia going in (full force) for a hug, Kate saw JJ wincing, trying to get a hold of her friend as if trying to stop her from doing so. She understood why soon enough.

"God, Garcia!" hissed in pain the Interpol agent, bending slightly and grabbing her left shoulder, that side's arm now resting on her abdomen, after the other woman had let go of her, "That hurt," she complained, but couldn't help but laugh at her friend's antics, her previous dread of being back turning into fondness. _"_ _ _Same old, same old.__ _"_ The former BAU member extended her good arm towards the shorter woman, when the wave of pain stopped.

"What happened to your arm?" asked an surprised and equally concerned Garcia, Kate noted, as she hugged, now with gentle care, an amused Emily.

"Um, I hurt it in the persecution of a suspect," Emily was promptly engulfed in Morgan's embrace once Garcia was satisfied with the duration of hers. The brunette chuckled as Morgan hit lightly the back of her head, and whispered in her ear _"_ _ _at least it wasn't your skull__ _"_ , right before he let Reid have his turn.

"A persecution in which you were __not__ involved," JJ added, smiling warmly.

"I __was__ involved, JJ!" she said, trying to sound threatening, which proved to be difficult since she was leaning tenderly into Reid's hold.

"As a victim..." the blonde pretended to whisper, earning everyone's curiosity.

"I'm sure you'll have fun telling them _h_ _ _ow__ exactly I got injured. Judas..." she released a content Reid.

The blue eyed woman laughed quietly, and was about to respond when she felt Emily put her into a one-armed, warm hug. She almost gasped out loud, and could feel the eyes of her co-workers on them as the brunette put her right arm around her shoulders, tension evident on the team's faces.

Not wanting to concern Emily, who knew nothing about her nervousness regarding physical contact, with a pounding heart, she put one shaky, gentle hand on Emily's injured arm, which was still bent in front of her body, and rested the other one on her friend's waist, completing a loose and brief embrace. After having separated, JJ swallowed hard to try and make the lump in her throat disappear, then said, surprisingly firmly:

"It sure will be a great story to introduce you to Kate."

She heard Emily giggle and the lump eased its grip on her throat.

"Enjoy your 30 pieces of silver..." giving JJ's shoulder a soft caress she moved obliviously onto Rossi, "So much for wanting to make a good impression," she added right before opening her arm to greet the older man.

As soon as Emily had her back turned, JJ supported herself on a nearby table and let out a shaky, soundless breath, still somewhat aware of Kate and Reid's gaze on her. She was grateful for their silence.

When she recovered she saw the ending of the short, yet significant hug between the brunette and Hotch.

"Well, now that we've greeted you properly," said the boss, "Emily, I want you to meet Kate Callahan."

Kate, moved from the spot she had been occupying for some minutes and neared the taller woman, who met her halfway with a little smile; the same one, JJ noticed, she had sported all those years ago when, nervous as a toddler in their first day of school, she had arrived to the BAU, ready to please, and eager to be accepted by everyone.

"Nice to meet you, agent Callahan," she shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you, too, agent Prentiss. And, just Kate is fine."

"In that case, just Emily is also okay."

"While I wish we had the time to catch up," Hotch intervened again, "we have a job to do. We can chat latter," he started walking away.

"My, my, someone's forgotten who gives the orders now?" Emily coulnd't help but tease.

Hotch tried not to look amused, and shook his head. He noted, however, that Prentiss had been following him to the briefing room just like any other of his employees.

Same old, indeed.

* * *

A/N: Hey there. Told you I wasn't one for deadlines...

Anyway, bridge-chapter, as I like to call them, in which nothing at all happens. Just a needed one to link with the next.

I absolutely love Garcia, and I'm seriously thinking about including her more than I had planned in the story; and Kate, too.

By the way, the next chapter will take a lot of time for me to write, mostly because I'm kind of hooked to Rizzoli & Isles right now.

P.S.: I didn't really searched where the quote from the beginning came from, a friend of mine just showed it to me and I liked it so... yeah.

Merry Christmas everyone, and happy new year.


End file.
